and poetry answers where prose fails:
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days agoBetween the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
Col. John McCrae was from Guelph, Ontario, my hometown. We memorized and recited this every Remembrance Day (Nov. 11 - same as American Veterans' Day). School would stop for an assembly at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month to honour those who served and those who gave their lives for our freedom.
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